Getting Greenberg
by kaljara
Summary: Why does Coach Finstock hate the mysterious Greenberg so much? The answer lies here! Meet Gia Greenberg-the only female lacrosse player in Beacon Hills. And join Gia as she ponders some deep questions:Where does McCall get his juice? Does Stilinski ever shut up? How the hell did Isaac Lahey make the team? And why is the only guy she's ever loved...gay? It's time to get Greenberg.


**Hi, everyone! After having an awesome conversation with Kathryne Buzolic about Greenberg, I got the idea for this story. I know, it's sort of out of the blue. But it seemed like a good idea for a quirky one-shot, so I went for it. I'd love to know what you think. Should I continue? If so, Ignite and Extinguish will remain my number 1 priority, so I won't update frequently. Review to let me know!**

"Greenberg! Damn it, hustle to the field! How did you lock your keys in the locker again? What? No, I can't get them out! What do I look like, Houdini?!"

"Greenberg! Why the hell are you just sitting there? I don't care if your legs are broken! Sprained ankle my ass...Suicide runs NOW, or that bench is the only thing you'll be seeing this season!"

"Greenberg! What are you looking at?! Yes, I know practice should have ended an hour ago. Do you want to be here all night? Then shut up and PLAY!"

Those are only some of the key phrases I've heard from coach Finstock over the years. He's been completely set on hating me since the moment I walked into his office my freshman year, a physical form clutched tightly in my hands. He actually _laughed _when I had told him that I wanted to be on his lacrosse team. He had stared at me, disbelieving, as though I had made the best joke in the world. But I wasn't joking; my face had been completely serious. I had handed him my form with shaking hands, and he had snatched it up, annoyed by my insistance. And then his eyes had widened as he read the sticky note from the principal.

Because the note stated that I had every right to play if I could get through auditions, which were said to be fairly easy. And I had been practicing all summer just to make the cut. I had ran every morning, practiced into the late hours of the evening, and kept a healthy diet, just so I could have a chance to be apart of the Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team. I had needed to get involved, find my niche. My mother had harrassed me every day of my eighth grade year telling me so. If I would just _do_ something, I would have more friends. I would be apart of something that could make my life a thousand times better.

Well, I never counted on having to deal with Coach Finstock. And he had never counted on having to deal with _me, _the first female lacrosse player in Beacon Hills history.

I tell myself that he hates me because I'm the girl that invaded his team. I tell myself that when I handed him that paper, I had officially crossed some weird testosterone line, and he felt uncomfortable about that. It's easier to assume those things than think that Coach just actually hates me for my personality.

I mean, I'm not all that bad. I'm a klutz and somewhat of a spaz, I guess, but I do fairly well on the field when I'm allowed to play. Look-wise, though? I never really have been lucky in that department. I'm tall, which would be nice if I were a model or a basketball player. But being 5'10 when you play lacrosse isn't really an advantage if you don't weigh more than 140 pounds. Besides that, I'm kinda plain. Choppy black hair and steel gray eyes are my best features, sadly. But I guess when you're surrounded by guys constantly at practice, the appeal to look stunning fades away pretty quickly.

Besides, who would I want to look nice for? Our captain, Jackson Whittemore, is one of the biggest assholes I've ever met. He's so completely absorbed with himself that I would be surprised if he knew half of the team's name. And McCall and Stilinski? They're cute, in a dorky sort of way, but not that appealing by my standards. Or Isaac Lahey, who is downright adorable but completely shy. I always wonder how the hell that kid made the team...Coach thinks I'm a screw-up? Lahey doesn't seem to know his lacrosse stick from a baseball bat. Poor kid...

Anyway, being a girl on an all-guy team isn't as amazing as it sounds. The boys are intimidated by my femine presence, I guess, because most the time they act like I'm completely invisible. Sometimes they snicker when Coach rags on me, which is _constantly_, but that's about as much acknowledgement as I get. That's the life of a socially awkward, lacrosse-playing junior girl, for the most part.

I think Coach assumes that if he insults me enough, I'll just quit and he can finally relax. And maybe that's the reason I stay-not because I love to mess with Finstock, but because I don't want to seem like every other teenage girl. I've proven I've got the balls to run with the guys, and I'm going to stick with my decision. Even if that means every dude in Beacon Hills calls me Greenberg instead of my first name. I mean, seriously? I've been on the lacrosse team for three years and only one person calls me Gia.

And it just so happens to be the boy that I'm madly in love with.

I know, I know. That should be a good sign, huh? But to tell you the truth, this guy looks at me as his best girl friend, and nothing more. In fact, even our friendship is kinda a secret. If Jackass Jackson found out, my poor guy would never hear the end of how he actually talked to the weird Greenberg chick. So we speak quietly in between practices, and he's always smiling when he says my actual name. Gia. I've honestly almost forgotten what it's like to be called that. I'd take his gestures as some kind of signal, but there's a teeny tiny problem with that...

Danny Mahealani is gay.

I mean, he's never flat-out told me that, but when you see a guy checking out more men in the locker room than the only girl in there, there's some kind explanation. I don't really mind, honestly. I accepted the fact a long time ago that I would ever be able to have Danny for myself. Is it bad that I still pine over him, though? Ah, probably. But I'm to that point in my life where I really just don't care.

Let's look at the facts: I'm in love with our gay goalie, my lacrosse coach hates me more than reasonably possible, all because I'm a girl, and I'm awkward as hell. Makes a pretty great combo, huh?

I know I sound like I'm whining. But GOD, can't something in my life go right for once? Hell, I'm not asking for Coach to give me praise or anything. Nothing too unreasonable. Just SOMETHING. Anything.

My best friend Erica suggested that I get another hobby besides lacrosse, because 'that sport will be the death of you'. Sorry, Erica, but I have to prove to my asshole teammates that I'm a decent lacrosse player and not really as big of a loser as Coach makes me out to be. I can't do anything as normal as learning how to knit.

Bench-warmer seems to have become my new position on the team though, ever since last week. Coach actually DID put me on the field before then, mostly to scream at me, but partly to show that he was abiding by school rules and not being sexist. But recently, I've been sitting on the bench because Scott-freaking-McCall has somehow managed to whip his uncoordinated ass into shape over the summer. Don't ask me how, but the kid gained some mad skills that I wouldn't mind learning. Unfortunately for me, that gave Coach an excuse to bench me until further notice. On the bright side, though, Stilinski still sucks at about everything, and Lahey still hasn't made that distinction between a lacrosse stick and a baseball bat. So now we're the merry band of misfits, and McCall has become some sort of prodigy child over night.

Plus side: Jackson looks like he wants to rip Scott in half for tapping in to his new-found talent. The lacrosse captain is touchy-touchy when it comes to his title.

Thank God I've never been a threat enough for Jackson to come after me. I wouldn't be able to handle anymore harrassment.

Damn, is it possible for players to...do backflips in the middle of running? Because McCall just did. What the hell, man? Are you trying out for the frickin' Olympics, Blunder Boy? Calm down, it's practice. You're not going to win a damn medal for fancy tricks. And oh, for God's sake, Stilinski, close your mouth for once. The world could do with less noise polution, thanks. Lahey, seriously? Are you asleep on the effing bench?! Coach will kick your...Oh, this is going to be good. Well, serves you right! ...Cool, and then you pansy- run around the track, Isaac. 'Cuz that's DEFINITELY going to make Coach like you better.

I guess you could say I'm a little bitter. I mean, who wouldn't be? I should just go up and introduce myself like, "Hi, I'm Gia Greenburg, and I'm the most bitter bitch in all of Beacon Hills. Pleasure to meet you." That sounds lovely.

I want some change around here. Something to spice Beacon Hills up a bit. But first thing is first: I'm going to have Jackson the Jerk-off ask McCall where he's been getting his juice. There is no way that kid got that talented without some substance aid, if you know what I'm saying. And maybe if I try hard enough, Danny will realize that I'm head over heels for him and stop checking out everyone's ass when they head for the showers. Maybe.

But, you know, mostly I just want to be noticed. Everyone else has got their chance, and I think it's only fair that something big happens for me soon. I need a chance to prove myself and-And dammit, Stiles, no one wants to hear you mumble under your breath about what you and Scott did in the woods last week. Or about wolves or whatever you're saying. God, played to many role-play games, huh? I can't even hear myself think with-

"Greenberg! Get on the field! I've only been screaming for the last hour now. C'mon, move! You're not only deaf, but you're slow, too? Nice. Great. Get with the program!"

**Wow, I really have no idea where that came from. That'll probably remain a one-shot, but if you want to hear some more of Gia's crazy encounters with all the wackiness in Beacon Hills, comment to let me know. Thanks! **

**~Harley**


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